


The Golden Floor

by sleeponrooftops



Series: Snow Patrol Project [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-30
Updated: 2011-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeponrooftops/pseuds/sleeponrooftops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looks dangerously attractive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Golden Floor

_I’m a peasant in your princess arms,_

_Penniless with only charm._

I know who she is, even with the mask, and she’s beautiful.

 

Dumbledore has decided to host a masquerade ball this year, our sixth year, and he even found a place off-grounds for us to go to.  It’s beautiful, really, and quite extravagant.  It’s an old castle, much like Hogwarts, but much more intricate and smaller.  Students are milling about outside, some slowly ascending the large grand staircase into the open ballroom.  Carriages arrive here and there, and fireworks explode in the air.

 

I smile to myself.  He always outdoes himself.

 

As I enter, I soak it all in, all the different masks and dresses, the brilliant array of food and flowers, the charming music and the flittering conversations.  It’s all beautiful, and then I see her.

 

I’ve never seen her quite like this before, dressed in a gorgeous black dress, skin glistening in the chandelier light.  Her brown hair tumbles in luscious curls around her, soft and delicate.  An arrangement of small black feathers pull back a section of her hair, out of her face, on the left.  The dress is strapless with a sash beneath her bust.  It flares out below that with hints of silver sparkling through the bottom.

 

She looks dangerously attractive.

 

She disappears soon enough, though, to Harry and Ron, much to my displeasure.  I go to find Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott to preoccupy myself, and the night progresses expectedly.  Pansy and I dance a few times, but after much begging and pleading on her part.  I find a few other Slytherin girls to occupy my time with, and it’s not so bad.

 

I keep a watchful eye on Hermione, though, and she looks over every once in a while, so I know that I’ve caught her attention.  I’ve cut back on my rude attitude toward the “trio”, as they’ve been affectionately dubbed, but for the sole reason that I find myself insanely weak at the knees everytime she glances my way.

 

Blaise nudges me, and I look away quickly, thanking him under my breath.  He just nods, shrugging.  He and Theodore are the only two that know that I pine after her, thankfully.

 

And so the night commences, mostly uneventfully.  It isn’t until the lights suddenly dim to almost nothing, and a beautiful, elegant slow song comes on that I finally decide it’s high time I make a move.  I approach her slowly, a beautiful black swan in a sea of pigeons.

 

“Excuse me,” I whisper against her ear, lips brushing her soft skin.

 

She turns immediately, surprise evident in her features.  One of her eyebrows arches up over her mask, and I can’t help but smile as her lips turn upward.

 

“May I have this dance?” I ask politely, bowing at the waist and holding out my hand.

 

To my utter shock, she takes my hand.  I relish in the feeling of her smooth and delicate hand, the way her fingers curl around my hand as I lead her away.

 

“Has anyone told you tonight how beautiful you are?” I question as we stop at the middle of the floor.

 

“Not yet, actually,” she returns smoothly, smirking.

 

Her hand finds my shoulder while I take her waist and spin us off.  It’s a delicate dance, one that leads to a mesmerizing rest of the night.  We are to be found in a secluded little area, snuggled close on a couch, talking softly and slowly inching closer.  It’s nearing midnight, the close of the ball, and Hermione finally touches my hand, her lips parted slightly.

 

“I want to know who you are,” she says slowly, “Though I’m afraid.”

 

I watch as she removes her mask, revealing a petite and beautiful face.  I can’t help the beam that stretches across my face as she leans forward, eyes closing, and I accept the invitation, touching her lips with my own.  Her fingers flit up my face, and I deepen the kiss as she pulls the tie loose, the mask falling away.

 

When we part, she opens her eyes, her gaze at her hands in my lap, and, after taking a slow breath, she looks up.  Her reaction is instantaneously.

 

“Malfoy,” she spits, standing and stepping back.

 

Her hand goes to her mouth, and she looks shocked.

 

“How could you?” she gasps, shaking her head and stepping back again when I stand.

 

“Hermione,” I plead, reaching out a hand, “Just listen.  I love you.”

 

And she’s frozen, a beautiful statue of disbelief.  It takes her a few moments to respond, and, when she does, I’m once again caught in surprise.  Such surprise, though, doesn’t refrain me from kissing her back when she is suddenly in front of me again, lips attached to mine.

 

And even if this wondrous moment is only for a night, at least I will have the memory always.

 

“ _Draco_!”

 

My mother’s voice is a sudden knife, cutting through the breaking fibers of my memory.  My eyes flash to her, to Hermione, and the strands strengthen, knit themselves back together.  It’s as clear as the night it happened.  Everything about her beauty shines in this single moment, and I can almost see her dancing across the shimmering floor, her smile ever-present.

 

I blink again, and she’s staring back at me, her chest heaving as she breathes heavily, and tears glistening on her cheeks.  I have caused this.

 

“Draco,” my father hisses, gripping my shoulder, “Tell your Aunt Bella who this is.”

 

“I…” I stutter, eyes faltering back to Harry, “I, uhm.”

 

“Draco, _please_ ,” mother begs, nearly crying.

 

I can’t.

 

“I can’t be sure,” I mutter finally, dropping my gaze.

 

Harry lets out a sigh of relief that only I can hear, and, when I stand and Bella shoves him past us, I feel his hand brush mine, and I look down, confused.  A crumpled piece of paper sits in my curled hand, and I quickly close my fist over it, inhaling sharply.

 

Hours later, when the trio finally escapes with their captured friends, when Bella is dancing about in joy over throwing her knife at them, I open the note, recognize Hermione’s handwriting instantly.

 

_Thank you.  I love you._

It was all the hope I ever needed, and my choice to step down was made with those simple words.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that was really short, :/ I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been having an extremely hard time with the Dramiones. I’ve been writing a few of the ones after this just as I go, and I keep skipping these because I’m finding it very difficult to write, and I can’t seem to find my inspiration. Hopefully, this will stop happening so I can actually write a decent Dramione, but, until then, I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
